serenity

Today was one of those days where I felt strangely accomplished and efficient, a really good kind of day, even though I really didn't do very much at all – but everything I did do was something I had planned to do, and it's always nice to slice things right off your list, zwick zwick zwick, all efficiently, even if those things are stuff like "drop off package at Post Office" (there's one open on Sunday here! That is a thing that is kind of beautiful) and "wander around flea market" and "try a Chantico(TM) from Starbucks.

Oh, Chantico(TM). It's like drinking god, if god came in a tiny little paper cup, and made you both want a glass of water to clear out the phlegm (because god, is it thick and pasty) and also feel a little dirty. You know, I don't usually associate god with phlegm, and so I might have to reconsider my on-the-fly analogy, here. Chocolate phleghm is less appetizing than you might imagine.

It apparently has every calorie ever, and most of the fat, however, crammed into a six ounce cup, which just doesn't seem right. Though I've spent most of the day hiking around Bernal Heights and through the Mission (with brief stops to fondle things that are pretty and not in my price range, but with plenty of deep sighs which I understand are good for you, cardiovascularly), telling myself the whole way that all the walking was clearly working off those 21 grams of fat, I can't help but think that the Chantico(TM) is currently lodged firmly in my ass and will remain there for all time

Also, my heart's still screaming.

In about an hour, I've got to make a decision about heading back out into the weather to take a Serenity Yoga class. By weather I thankfully do not mean the rain that's been plaguing the city for the past eleven years, but the chill. The chill! I am a princess, and I cannot take the chill! Or maybe I am a lazy sumbitch. So far, crawling into bed (at five o'clock in the afternoon) and pulling the comforter all the way up to my chin and reading is what's sounding pretty fine to me. "Serenity yoga" sounds pretty goofy anyway. I'll get my serenity the old-fashioned way – I think I've got a nice bottle of pinot in the wine rack.

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about and etcetera

One of those weight loss blogs, except for how I hate the word "blog" and this isn't so much about losing weight as not wanting to diet, being thirty-something, and just trying to get it - where "it" is read as "everything" - right. Now, getting it right means dealing with the aftermath of weight loss surgery - all the scary, all the wonderful, all the frustrating.